


Ru-Kelok

by SitDownJohn



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Mental Illness, Vulcan, h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SitDownJohn/pseuds/SitDownJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock cried when he was touched, his thoughts raced, he froze in crowded rooms, he couldn't keep track of his own thoughts because he was drowning in everyone else's. So they took him to a doctor, but a diagnosis can't solve everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first Star Trek fic! I'm not, to be honest, entirely sure where or how I came across this idea, but I hope you like it. I apologize for any typos, I will do more once-overs, but I think it ought to be okay. Enjoy!

This wasn’t his class…he knew that he was here. Why? He stumbled out of the class as quietly as he could, but eyes followed him. He rushed to his own class and tried to forget the incident.

-  
The next week he walked into the teacher’s lounge. He was sure that there was paperwork that he needed. He was taken to the headmaster, and he couldn’t explain why he was there, only that he knew there was something he needed there.

-  
He went back to school. His parents thought it was an isolated incident. Too little sleep. They said. He was inclined to agree, even though it wasn’t logical. Truthfully, he didn’t want to consider the alternative.

-  
It was all okay for a month. Sure, there were moments when he did odd things. He tried to do his father’s work, or cook like his mother. He said things he had no business saying, but everyone was inclined to pretend that it was just the antics of a young Vulcan. Neither his father nor his mother wanted to entertain the thought…the thought that he was like so many other hybrids. They were content to ignore the problem and wait for it to go away on its own. It wasn’t logical, but even Vulcan’s could ignore logic in the face of too powerful a fear.

-  
He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t keep the thoughts straight in his head; they whizzed away every time he caught onto them. He turned the test in with 5 pages blank; there wasn’t time. He failed the class.

-  
“We’re taking you out of school.” His father said. They couldn’t ignore it any longer. He nodded. It was only logical.

“I shall continue your education at home until you have learned how to control yourself.” His father was still trying to ignore the real answer.

-  
His head felt like someone was driving a rod into it. His emotional barriers were in tatters and tears streamed down his face. The pain was great and only compounded by the racing thoughts and emotions in his head. Need to get to the embassy…get the papers…Sajin for the dinner tonight…Sarel is waiting…pick up T’pan…catch the shuttle…The thoughts were alien, but overwhelming all the same. They each came with emotions. Pain, joy, fear, anger, surprise, disgust, panic, confusion…things no Vulcan would ever admit to feeling, and he could feel everything single one at the same time.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but cry from the sheer pain of so many thoughts. Someone grabbed his arm and he jerked back. Another string of white-hot thoughts shot into his mind and his skin burned. He screamed.

There was a screeching sound, a yell from faraway. There was sharp pain in his side and the world went dark.

-  
He woke up to white walls and a calmly beeping monitor. A hospital, his mind supplied. Why was he here? All he could remember was pain. Bright, white, unending agony in the shape of rushing thoughts and emotions.

“You were hit by a hover-car while standing in the road, seemingly paralyzed.” A voice said. He turned his head toward it: a doctor. His vision swam and he fell back asleep

-  
The days in the hospital passed in relative silence. He couldn’t think, let alone receive the thoughts of others, with all of the medicine that they were pumping through him. He slept, he ate, he slept again. His mother and father visited. His mother looked at him sadly; his father was impassive. There could be no doubt anymore.

“We’re taking you to a specialized doctor” His father said when he was released. He nodded, looking at the ground.

-  
He sat on the hard, high backed chair in the waiting room. His face was trained into a carefully neutral expression, hiding any and every emotion that he might feel.

“Spock, son of Sarek and Amanda” A woman called from the door into the hospital halls. Spock stood from among the other waiting patients and followed without visible hesitation. He had long since pushed down any nervousness he felt.

“Take a seat. My name is Nurse T’lek.” The woman—T’lek—sat down, “I’m here to speak to you about your diagnosis. Dr. Sokar will be here in 10 minutes to answer more specific questions.”

“Yes.” Spock said. He sat, straight and stiff.

“You have been diagnosed with Ru-Kelok Syndrome.” T’lek said. A jolt ran through Spock. He had known what it would be. Of course he knew. What else could cause the symptoms? It still sent bolts of barely-controllable fear through him.

“Could you please elaborate on specific symptoms?” Spock asked. His voice was calm, controlled, just like it always was. He knew the symptoms backwards and forwards, but continuous talking was appealing at the moment if only to banish the waves of anxiety threatening to bubble over.

“Of course.” She read from the paper she held, “The primary cause of Ru-Kelok Syndrome is overproduction of Telamine and Ephathine, the main neurotransmitters used in telepathic and empathic communication. It is a recessive genetic condition, appearing only when both parents carry the gene or when one parent is non-Vulcan and therefore does not have the necessary dominant traits to mask the illness. The overproduction of telamine and ephathine causes patients to have several chronic symptoms, including: sensitivity to touch, tendency to unconsciously receive emotions and desires from others and act upon them, increased empathic sensitivity. These symptoms often go unnoticed in young children, owing to their limited emotional control. Compounding the “chronic” symptoms, there are “episodic” symptoms that occur when a massive rush of telamine and ephathine is triggered (often brought on by stress, physical sickness, or sudden environmental changes). Episodic symptoms are more severe. They include: Severe head pain, confusion, rushing thoughts, inability to control telepathic input and output, extreme touch sensitivity, loss of emotional control, and mental and emotional overload due to influx of telepathic input. This illness—“

Dr. Sokur strode in, interrupting T’lek midsentence. She stood instantly and left, leaving Spock alone with Dr. Sokur. Spock, of course, was familiar with Sokur; he had been assigned to Spock’s case from the start. He was the foremost expert on Ru-Kelok Syndrome in the whole of the Shi’Kahr District.

“Greetings, Spock. Nurse T’lek went over your diagnosis, correct?” Sokur said.

“Yes. However, we did not speak about treatment. I assume that treatment is your area, rather than hers?”

“It is,” Sokur sat down in T’lek’s seat, “Your treatment will be a combination of medication, intensive therapy, and lifestyle adjustments.”

Spock nodded.

“Firstly, we will prescribe two daily medications aimed at controlling the production of telamine and ephathine over the long term. You are to take the telamine inhibitor at breakfast and dinner. The ephathine inhibitor is to be taken at lunch. Both should be taken with food. You also have an emergency medication. This is to be taken only if you begin to experience symptoms of an episode. It inhibits telamine and ephathine production entirely, and it causes many side effects. You will be given a paper on the dangers of each medication.” Sokur paused, looking Spock up and down.

“Doctor, tell me about the therapy. I have heard that it is primarily meditation-based, but I would like to hear from a medical professional.”

“Yes, you are prescribed twice weekly sessions of intensive meditation training. The training is aimed at increasing your innate control over your body, allowing you to be consciously aware of what is causing symptoms and to suppress it. Along with this, you will not consume any of the foods listed on the papers you receive, you will avoid unnecessary physical contact, and you will follow a special study schedule at school. Do you have any questions?”

“Why must I adopt a different course of study?”

“Episodes of Ru-Kelok are often caused by increased stress and being inundated by large crowds, as you would be at school. It is logical for you to adopt a separate course of study in order to minimize disruption to both yourself and other students.”

“I will not.” Spock’s thoughts raced at the thought of being forced into a special study course. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with his peers, he’d never hold a job, never touch another person, he’d lose his recommendation to the VSA, he’d lose the chance to go to Starfleet, his father would cease to respect him, his mother would keep looking at him with that deep sadness in her eyes…

“Spock!” The sharp tone ripped Spock from his mind. His breath was racing with his heart, far faster than it should. “You are experiencing symptoms?”

“Yes.” Spock whispered. He squeezed his eyes, clenched his fists, and forced his mind into the lightest stages of Tahl’hwar meditation.

“You will begin medication tomorrow. Control yourself and collect your medications at the front desk. If you refuse to participate in the recommended altered study, I cannot force you to, but it would be most illogical to disregard my orders.”

-

Spock departed and hour later, collecting the three medications. 40 emergency pills. The clerk handed him an official paper as well, and a schedule for therapy. Spock bowed and took them dispassionately, it was the Vulcan way. He couldn’t let another soul know how he felt. Only the way his muscles tensed and never relaxed let on to how he truly felt.

-

One pill in the morning, one at lunch, one at dusk. Spock took the pills religiously. He walked himself to twice weekly sessions, throwing himself into the meditation, fueled, paradoxically, by the all-consuming fear of losing his future plans to illness. No one would know, no one would know, no one would know. He packed his lunch carefully each morning, checking and rechecking each ingredient so that none of the banned foods would so much as grace his sight. 

He pushed himself into regular studies, and it took its toll. Only three weeks after the diagnosis, he took the first emergency pill. He was weak, dizzy, cloudy-headed, tired, and nauseous for the rest of the day. He had to be taken home.

He threw himself harder into his meditation. The emergency pills ran out in only six months—more than a month of emergencies. Spock had a neatly-printed truancy warning for all the missed days. He was more careful. He wore long sleeves and hugged the wall, taking the back routes to avoid crowds.

The pills took a year to run out. Then a year and four months. It was longer each time. Sometimes, it felt like there was no illness there at all.  
Spock grew older, always checking and rechecking his food. Always meditating in the morning and night. Always taking his medication quietly after meals. Always slipping the emergency pills into his pocket.

He applied to Starfleet. They accepted him. He boarded the shuttle alone and headed off to Earth, pills hidden as deep as his illness as he looked serenely into the Vulcan sunset.


	2. First Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is chapter two, a story about Spock's first day at the academy. I hope you all enjoy it!

The academy was…spectacular. It was a centerpiece just outside San Francisco, sun glinting from the towers and sharply jutting annexes. It was very different from the rounded, flowing architecture from ShiKahr, Spock’s home.

He walked forward from the landing pad, his face drawn into a careful neutral. The city was big, and there were a lot of people. He could feel their thoughts and feelings scratching at the edge of his mind. He veered to the side of the street and shut his eyes, focusing his energy on visualizing a steel wall around his mind. It was, admittedly, an old exercise, but it helped in these places. Humans brushed against him as they walked, no doubt giving him strange looks. He screwed his eyes tighter; the exercise wasn’t helping. 

He took an emergency pill, hand slipping into his pocket and pulling it out without a thought. He felt the effect almost instantly, the thoughts quieted and a fog settled on his thoughts. He felt tired and sluggish.

\---

He strode into the academy lobby, joining the small group of new cadets, all human. They all looked at him as he walked over, but Spock’s brain was too fogged by the medicine to interpret the nervous looks.

“You’re that Vulcan half-breed they told us about, right?” A young, dark-skinned human girl asked. Spock stared at her for a beat. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, eyebrows inclined down. 

“I am…though I would not describe myself as a “half-breed” as you have chosen to put it.” Spock said.

“Really? Then what would you use? Mongrel? Alien? Mutt?” The girl shot back. Spock cocked his head. It took him a full ten seconds to process what she said; the emergency pill was really kicking in now. He blinked as it finally made it through his head what the woman had said.

“I…do not understand your hostile attitude.”

“Oh, really, well I guess I couldn’t expect a machine—“ The girl was cut short by the cry of a man in uniform calling to them from the other side of the room.

“New cadets! Assemble in rows of two and follow me!” Spock jerked around at the orders, only to see the others already assembled. He shook himself internally; he hated the emergency pills. They took, to use a human idiom from his mother, the stuffing out of him. He joined the line at the back, partner-less due to the uneven number of students.

The introductions were short, but felt much longer to Spock, who could barely focus on the floor ahead of him, let alone on following a conversation. After each of the nearly 100 cadets had double-checked all of their paper work, been assigned dorms and class schedules, and started to mill around the auditorium, a woman pulled Spock aside.

“You are Spock, son of Sarek, correct?” The woman said. Spock blinked dumbly.

“I am” He said after a short pause. He puzzled over why the woman was speaking to him, but he couldn’t think straight. He would grasp a train of thought, only to have it suddenly drop off.

“My name is Dr. Laima Venclova. I need you to come with me. All students with pre-existing chronic conditions must speak with medical staff.”

“Of course” Spock fleetingly wondered if the long pauses between his response and question registered as odd with the doctor. He followed her straight-backed and brisk. The other cadets didn’t know why he was leaving. And they never need to. Spock thought. He knew it was illogical, but he had experienced the way people treated him differently when they saw him take pills or knew about his illness. They started to avoid discussing serious topics, they walked around him as if he were made of glass, and he had no desire to be excluded from important matters on the basis of a well-controlled illness.

___

Spock sat among several other cadets. Under normal circumstances, he would have carefully observed their interactions, facial cues, and body postures in an attempt to understand more about human social etiquette. As it was, he looked at the opposite wall, trying to think straight. His mind was moving far too sluggishly.  
Suddenly, he was aware of a sharp pain in his side; he turned toward it. It was the woman sitting next to him. She looked…less hostile. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was smiling. 

“What do you require?” Spock asked, channeling immense energy into this conversation. If he was reading her correctly, this woman was friendly. Both his mother and father had stressed the importance of knowing people on friendly terms. It was logical to be liked by as many people as possible; it made getting things done easier.

“Oh nothing in particular, it’s just boring to sit here for so long without saying anything, so I thought that I’d talk to you. My name is Sajita, and I can only assume that you’re Spock, we all knew about you already. It’s big news, you know, there aren’t many aliens—I mean non-humans—in Starfleet.”

Spock tried to follow the woman’s—Sajita’s—breakneck speaking pace. He was pretty sure that he had missed several important points of her talking. He responded anyway.

“You are correct, I am Spock.” He said. He wasn’t sure if that was the most appropriate response, but he was starting to feel nauseous on top of the brain fog. The side-effects would only get worse.

“You don’t look so good. But I guess that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it. They don’t drag healthy people to see the doctor on their first day at the academy. Why did they drag you here? I didn’t even know that Vulcans got chronic illnesses. Ah well, I suppose all species do. I have epilepsy, by the way, if I’m going to ask you personal questions I might as well tell you my personal information too.”

Spock could barely concentrate on what she was saying. What little brain power he had at the moment was focused the nausea rolling around in his stomach. Did this have to happen now? He should have known it would, the emergency pills were always the same.

“Cadet Spock, I’m ready for you.”

Sajita poked him, “The doctor just called you!”

Spock startled slightly “Yes of course” He stood, fighting to conceal the sudden uptake in nausea when he stood. He walked quickly into the private room where Dr. Venclova waited and sat down in the empty chair unbidden.

“So, Cadet, here it—“ Dr. Venclova began. Spock held up his hand. The nausea spiked and he could feel vomit rising in his throat. Emergency pills could be as bad as the damn symptoms when he wasn’t in private for the fallout. Before he could run, his body overpowered his weak mind and he vomited all over the shoes of Dr. Venclova. He heard a gasp from the woman and a few moments later he felt a warm hand on his back. He shook it off violently. Even with the pill, touching could facilitate emotional transfers that Spock was in no condition for.

Once it is over, he hears Dr. Venclova ask him something, but he can’t process it at the moment. He settles for explaining his outburst.

“I took an emergency pill to alleviate sudden symptoms of my illness when I arrived this morning. I was not expecting introductory matters to take so long. The emergency pills reacting with and neutralizing one of the chemicals involved in telepathic reception. This effectively dulls the symptoms, but it also slows processing speed, causes a ‘brain fog’, nausea, and fatigue. The side effects should begin to taper off now.” Spock spit the words out as fast as we could, he felt drained and he was having enough trouble fighting down his emotions without staying here, staring at his own vomit splattered across the carpet.

“Are incidents like this likely to happen often?” Dr. Venclova asked.

“No…it was merely the sudden change in environment that caused my symptoms to flare as they did. Once I have settled to the routine it will be fine.” Spock paused,   
“May I go?”

“Yes. We will have another meeting when you are more coherent.”

Spock stood, and the room pitched to the left. He stumbled and darkness swam on the edge of his vision. Reactions this unpleasant rarely happened. He fell, and a sharp pain connected with his head just before he blacked out.

\---

He woke up in the infirmary. His head was pounding, but at least he could think. 

In a rush, the events of his first day flooded back. Taking the pill, vomiting on the doctor, fainting and hitting his head. Spock closed his eyes tight. It was illogical to concern himself with the events. It was not his fault, yet he could feel a burning warmth in his face at the thought of the day’s events. He fought it down and fell asleep.

He promised himself that he wouldn’t use another emergency pill in public if he could avoid it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I promise, Kirk and Bones will be in the next chapter! Please leave your thoughts, positive or negative, in the comments if you find the time. Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This will be continued, so please leave your thoughts, be they positive or negative, in the comments! Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this strange story.


End file.
